


The Holy Grail Chronicles

by Trying_to_sleep



Series: Merlin oneshots [3]
Category: Merlin (TV), Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
Genre: Lancelot is the only sane one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trying_to_sleep/pseuds/Trying_to_sleep
Summary: When Arthur is bored, he decides to go on a quest to find the Holy Grail. Of course, he takes the knights and a grumbling Merlin with him. Watch as they get into trouble with odd creatures and suffer through Gwaine's atrocious advertising.A Merlin and Monty Python crossover that I do not regret writing.
Series: Merlin oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708138
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Holy Grail Chronicles

Merlin sighed, glancing over at Gwaine at the table in front of him. Gwaine rolled his eyes in such a typically Gwaine way that it made Merlin snigger. Pausing his long arduous speech, Arthur glared at him. “Anything you want to add, Merlin?”

He quickly shook his head, trying to hide the fact that he had no idea what was going on. “No sire.”

“Actually,” Arthur mused, “you’re Gaius’ ward. It is possible you may know more of the Holy Grail than we do.”

“The Holy Grail?” Merlin asked, vaguely surprised.

“Yes, Merlin. The Holy Grail. Which you would know if you bothered to pay attention.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said carefully, “the Holy Grail is the cup of life.”

The prat looked somewhat surprised at this piece of information. “Are you sure? The one that Morgause used? The one that you lost?”

“Well,” Merlin’s voice was indignant. “I didn’t lose it. It’s in Gaius’ chambers. And yes that one. Big golden thing. Has the power to bring the dead back to life. Very holy.”

“You might want to shut up now.” Arthur told him. “Thank you, Merlin. Gaius, is this true? Would you be able to go and get the cup?”

Raising his eyebrow, Gaius rose and slowly backed out of the room, nodding respectfully. His eyebrow rose slightly higher as he locked eyes with Merlin. Said servant shrugged.

This would be funny.

Merlin didn’t expect his little practical joke to result in a huge quest. If he had known that, he never would have said anything because, of course, the cup of life was not the Holy Grail.

Merlin knew this very well. If he was being honest, he hardly knew what the Holy Grail was. After all, his area of expertise was the old religion.

Gaius came back with the cup ten minutes later and there were choruses of aahs and oohs. Arthur took the cup with a certain reverence and held it up high.

“The Holy Grail!” he shouted. “People of Camelot, rejoice because…”

“Sire,” Gaius interrupted,

Arthur turned, rather impatiently. “Yes Gaius?”

“Sire, that is not the Holy Grail.”

“Don’t be silly Gaius, of course it is.”

“No, sire. The cup of life, although often mistaken for the Grail, is something completely different.”

“But Merlin said…”

“Sire, haven’t you learned not to trust Merlin?”

“Hey!”

Gaius shot the eyebrow at his ward and he shut up.

“So where is the Grail?” Arthur asked, also shooting glares at Merlin.

“Well, the thing is,” Gaius said, “no one knows. It’s been the subject of numerous quests throughout history, but no one has ever succeeded in finding it. We don't even know if it exists.”

Arthur paused in thought for some time. His brow furrowed. His foot tapped the floor. His lip quivered as he concentrated. His body straightened and he turned to face the eagerly waiting crowds. “I have decided,” he said, “that I shall embark on a quest to find the Holy Grail.”

He was met with silence as the people took a second to comprehend what he had said. Then someone (most likely Gwaine) cheered and it set off a chain reaction as all with the exception of Merlin and Gaius who stood in joint incredulity, eyebrows raised high.

The next day dawned with a bright sun seeping through the windows and a groaning king Arthur. There was also no sign of Merlin.

Arthur found this out in the most pleasant way when he did not get woken by a loud shout. He then, half an hour later, realised that he was ridiculously late for council. Then he realised that he wasn’t going to the council meeting today because he was going on a quest. He snuggled back down into the duvet with a content sigh, and this was how Merlin found him later on.

He was dragged rudely out of bed and on to the floor with his usual indignant cry.

“Time to move!” Merlin said and grinned as he ducked the pillow that Arthur chucked at him. “Now, now, sire. Don’t be like that! We’re going on a quest and I, being your amazing, kind manservant, have packed for you.”

“that’s your job, Merlin.” Arthur protested.

“I also packed my own things, did Gaius’ rounds and helped Gwaine pack his stuff.” He shivered. “I have never seen anyone with that much hair product. And his ale mug! He refused to leave it behind! Said it was ‘lucky’ or something.”

“I don't care, Merlin.” Arthur said, because it was obligatory; he was actually enjoying the story. 

The two of them arrived in the courtyard twenty minutes later where the knights were waiting and Arthur’s horse was already saddled and ready. Merlin looked smug.

They set off without further delay and after much sobbing from loved ones left behind. Mostly Gwaine’s loved ones, but Gaius shed a few tears too.

They journeyed through the thick forest surrounding Camelot for most of the day, setting up camp in the evening and eating a rather delicious meal made by Merlin and Percival’s combined efforts.

Late into the night, they settled into bedrolls and put Lancelot on first watch, which he very chivalrously didn’t complain about. The night passed without trouble and so the next day, the company set off again.

Halfway through the morning they emerged from the seemingly endless forest, only to come face to face with more. There were many groans, none louder that Merlin who was promptly told to shut up and, in retaliation, groaned louder.

Elyan rode out ahead to scout the path which proved to be useful, given that they happened upon a… something… only a hundred metres ahead.

The something, despite having no ears – or any other body part for that matter - perked up and began to bounce on its stump of torso when it heard (?) them approach.

Ever the knight, Arthur rode up and, in his most knight–like voice, said, “I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, ask you to let us pass.”

The thing seemed not to hear him as it continued to jump around. 

“Are you refusing?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Unsurprisingly it didn’t reply.

“In that case, I challenge you to a duel!” he decided. Merlin, and most of their company, face palmed silently.

Deciding to intervene, Lancelot walked up to the two and gently pulled Arthur away, apologising to the thing on the ground. They walked past with no more problems except for a rather put out Arthur Pendragon who kept swinging his sword around, complaining that he was trying to earn glory for Camelot. This meant Merlin had to confiscate the sword in case anybody got hurt.

They mounted their horses and carried on through the forest. 

Later on, when Merlin was utterly exhausted from riding all day and the knights were tired enough not to tease him, they stopped again. It wasn’t a long stop, mostly because the village they were in was deemed ‘too irrevocably dirty for human eyes’ by Arthur. This offended a passing local and they were forced to move on. Sometime after this, Gwaine looked up and saw a swallow.

Nudging Merlin, he said, “What kind of swallow is that?”

Merlin, who knew next to nothing about birds shrugged. Elyan on the other hand, immediately jumped in with, “It’s an African swallow. You see, the African variety is slightly larger than the common European kind. In fact, its larger size means it is less streamlined and so has a lower velocity. It’s quite amazing that there’s one here actually, since we’re in Briton and none of us have even heard of Africa.”

Merlin told him he made no sense.

They rode for hours and once more, Merlin began to complain. Luckily, they ran into a barrier that made them stop in their tracks. This particular barrier was in the form of four men dressed like knights who seemed to be insistent on repeating the same word over and over. They seemed to think it struck fear into enemies’ hearts. Merlin thought his dragonlord voice would do better, but of course he didn’t say so.

“Ni!” one of the knights said to Arthur.

“Good day to you, sir knight.” Arthur replied.

“Ni!”

“Um…”

“Ni!”

Arthur shook his head as if to clear it. “Could you let us past, sir knight? You see, we are on a quest.”

“Ni!” was all he got in return.

“Please?” he asked.

“… Ni.”

“Are you saying no?”

“Ni!” the knight seemed to be quite offended and repeated his word a few more times, as if explaining the pronunciation to a very confused Arthur.

Another one of them came up to where Lancelot and Gwaine were standing bemusedly. “Ni!” he said. “If you are to pass, you must get us a shrubbery!” Seeing their puzzled faces, he added on a quick, “Ni!”

“Excuse me?” Lancelot asked, ever the polite one.

“A shrubbery.” The knight repeated. “We require a shrubbery.”

Gwaine shrugged and dug around in his bag for a second or two. He pulled out a vial of some sort of liquid in it. On the vial was inscribed: _L’Oréal, because you’re worth it._

“Will this do?” he asked. “It’s my best one, so be careful with it.”

“This is not a shrubbery.” The knight pointed out, rather obviously.

“Nay, it’s not.” Gwaine agreed. “It’s better. This, my friend, is L’Oréal new formula hair care potion. This will make your hair as glossy as mine!” he took a quick glance at the knights’ heads and shook his own, hair flaring out all around him. “Gods know you need it.”

The knights of Ni deliberated for a while; there was much tutting and oohing.

Eventually the four turned back to face Gwaine and nodded with a finality that made him grin. “Ni.” They said as one. The one who spoke to Arthur stepped forward. “This is not a shrubbery, but we will take it. We are intrigued to see your hair potion at work for ourselves.” He paused. “Usually, we would demand several more shrubberies, but today, because of your gift, we will let you pass. We wish you well on your quest, sir Gwaine the glossy haired.”

“Hey!” Arthur protested. “What about me? I'm the king!”

The knights of Ni said Ni. Arthur growled. Merlin slowly dragged him away as Gwaine swaggered out of the clearing.

More days passed in the same manner with all sorts of shenanigans mostly involving Gwaine and his terrible advertising. They ran into trouble, which was usually solved by Arthur waving his sword about while Merlin and Lancelot talked it out, and they passed the time with singing and jollity. It was not very jolly when Leon began to sing.

Halfway through the fourth day of their quest, they came upon another knight who was, rather oddly, galloping through the forest without a horse, although he did have a (terrible) minstrel and several servants carrying his rather excessive luggage. As they passed him, they heard the minstrel strum his lute a few times and, with a deep breath, start his song.

It went thus:

_Brave sir Robin was the very best, the very best, the best there was,_

_He rode all the way from Camelot, from Camelot from Camelot,_

_He vanquished beasts with flick of a sword; he saved the maidens fair,_

_But when it came to anything, anything else,_

_Sir Robin ran away._

_Brave sir Robin, Brave sir Robin,_

_He bravely ran away!_

_Brave sir Robin and his merry men,_

_They bravely ran away!_

It was quite possibly the worst song any of them had ever heard, and Gwaine frequented many taverns.

Arthur however, was quite impressed. “The story tells of a brave and noble knight.” He announced. “I weep at the tales of his chivalry and bravery. Oh, brave Sir Robin!”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Merlin told him. “It says he ran away. Not to mention, that lute isn’t even in tune.”

“A strategic retreat.” The king argued. “A noble thing to do.”

“He ran away. It’s not noble or strategic. It’s cowardly.” Merlin insisted.

“You dare insult such a good knight?” Arthur thundered, “I'm going to go up to him right now. He can become another knight of Camelot!”

He did indeed walk up. Sir Robin stopped and turned to face him.

“Greetings, brave Sir Robin!” Arthur boomed. “I have heard tell of your um… bravery and um… even braver bravery from all across the lands… of this forest… in these last five minutes. Anyway,” his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. “Anyway,” he said again, “I am king Arthur of Camelot, and I would like to ask you to become a knight of the round table!”

Merlin had to admit, he did have a good flare when he said that. He made the round table sound impressive and symbolic and nothing like what it was – a big round block of wood.

Sir Robin’s eyes widened and his hand fell to the sword at his waist. “You are not King Arthur, sir. I am already sworn to him and you are not him. I would know my king anywhere!”

Arthur frowned. “I assure you, my good man, I am King Arthur. I have been since birth. Well, until a few years ago I was Prince Arthur, but that’s not the point.”

“Lies!” sir Robin shouted. “Slander!”

“I give up.” Arthur muttered. “This is getting boring.”

_And brave Sir Robin, oh so brave,_

_He bravely ran away!_

_For the king was strong and fierce and handsome,_

_He was quite attractive, knew how to romance em’,_

_He…_

And then the minstrel stopped because Gwaine had hit him on the head.

Arthur hmphed and strode away, dragging Merlin with him as he went.

“Not a word.” he growled.

“Yes sire.” Merlin said with a giggle and a tone of voice that meant he’d be recounting this whole encounter to Gaius as soon as possible. Probably Gwen too.

Two thirds through the sixth day, two things happened. The first was that Arthur stopped glowering at everything and anything that looked his way, and the second was that they came out of the forest.

The two events were in no way connected.

The knights left the tree line behind with barely concealed glee and soon came upon a barren plain of rocks which excited them simply because of the lack of leaves and vegetation.

Percival startled, falling off his horse when they heard the first bang. Another soon followed and Elyan’s horse bucked. Another and another came and Arthur made the executive decision to go and see what the hell was happening.

They rode towards the sound and came to a halt around a hundred metres away from where a man was pointing a stick towards the rocks. Wherever he pointed, a large explosion… exploded, thus the unpleasant bang that had caused them so much strife.

Arthur, brow furrowing in annoyance, came to the obvious conclusion of, “Sorcery!”

He dismounted his horse and stomped over to the man who raised an eyebrow in a very Gaius-esque way.

“Who are you, sorcerer, and what business do you have?” Arthur demanded in his ‘I am the king’ voice.

The other eyebrow crawled up the sorcerer’s face. “As I recall,” he said nasally, “I was here first, and so it should be me who asks you what business you have here.”

This did not help the king’s mood.

“Give me your name!” he seethed.

“Very well.” The other said calmly. “I am Tim, the enchanter.” He punctuated his sentence with an especially loud bang.

“Would you stop that!” Arthur yelled.

Tim pointed his stick again.

“What do you seek, king Arthur?”

“How do you know my name?” said king asked.

“I know many things.” Tim answered in that mysterious way old men in fantasy are so good at. “Your name is only one.”

“So you know my stance on magic, which you are clearly using.”

“What do you seek?” Tim asked again, completely ignoring Arthur.

“We’re looking for the Holy Grail!” Merlin said helpfully.

“Merlin!” Arthur groaned. “Don’t tell the sorcerer top secret information!”

“I already knew.” Tim told him. “It was just more amusing to make you tell me.”

“Well…” Arthur started indignantly, but Tim was already off again.

“If you seek the Holy Grail, take a left turn at that cave, pass the bunny, slay the beast, take the second right, go over the bridge and it’s on your left. Good luck!”

With yet another bang, and a point of his stick, he vanished.

“He’s gone!” Gwaine cried.

“He’s underneath the smoke from the explosion.” Merlin said. “Look, he’s running away over there.”

“Shut up Merlin.” Arthur said for no apparent reason. “Let’s get on with it.”

The knights got back on their thoroughly spooked horses and rode the two or three metres to the cave entrance.

“What do you suppose Tim meant by the bunny?” Elyan asked.

“I imagine he meant that bunny right there.” Percival replied. “The one hopping around the dead bodies of knights.”

“Oh yes!”

“Well,” Arthur said, “let’s get past it.”

“Arthur,” Merlin muttered. “Do you not think that maybe the dead bodies are a clue?”

“About what?”

Merlin sighed. “It’s a killer bunny, Arthur. Look!” with that, he reached into his bag and pulled out a neckerchief. He threw it (rather pathetically) towards the bunny.

The bunny tore into it and devoured it in seconds.

“Well…” Leon commented. “That was enlightening.”

“That was my spare neckerchief.” Merlin grumbled, “But no mind. You get my point. If that was one of us, the same would happen.”

“I volunteer Merlin.” Arthur said.

“Are you even listening to me, you clotpole?”

“Yes. I'm volunteering you to go and fight the killer bunny.”

“Help me.” Merlin muttered to Lancelot. “Save me from this idiot.” Lancelot only nodded sympathetically.

“I think we should try to kill it from a distance.” Elyan put in. “But how?”

“Good question.” Gwaine mused. “I could throw some of my hair…”

“No!”

“What’s wrong with my hair products?”

“Gwaine,” Leon the long suffering said, “Everything is wrong with your hair products. I never want to look at them again.”

“Well that’s’ rude.”

“Why don't we just shoot it with that handy bow and arrow on Leon’s back?” Merlin said. He was ignored.

“Why don't we just shoot it with that handy bow and arrow on Leon’s back?” Gwaine, who had heard him, said louder.

“Good idea, sir Gwaine!” Arthur said. “Leon, you are the best archer among us. You should shoot the beast.”

Merlin glared daggers.

With a little flash of golden in Merlin’s eyes, Leon got a remarkably good shot directly into the bunny’s heart.

Gwaine cheered in a very Gwaine like way.

The seven of them trod stealthily into the cave, being careful to make no sound, (and completely failed on Merlin’s part.)

“Tim said something about a beast…” he whispered.

“Shut up Merlin!” Arthur whispered back. Except he didn’t whisper. He shouted. And a monster appeared.

It wasn’t the most hideous of creatures, but it was just monstrous enough to be called a monster. There were the obligatory tentacles and beady eyes and the uncanny resemblance to an octopus that is typical of all monsters, not to mention the gigantic, knight crushing teeth.

Merlin sat back to watch as the knights drew their swords and charged. Surprisingly, the weapons actually did something and, with an almighty thrust from Arthur and another ‘lucky’ arrow from Leon, the monster fell to the terrifying knights of Camelot.

Merlin hummed slightly as he thought the spell that put flickering blue flames on the end of an oblivious Arthur’s sword.

With the beast vanquished and Arthur’s ego sufficiently inflated, they continued on through the cave. Lancelot gave a cry of surprise when he came across another monster carcass which was mangled and deformed.

“I think,” He said, “that someone may have been here before us. In fact, I think we’ve been following someone for this entire trip.”

“Ridiculous.” Arthur decided. “Only the knights of Camelot would have the bravery to undertake such a quest as this.”

“And Merlin.” Added Merlin.

“Shut up.”

“Ok.”

They carried on through the winding tunnels.

“Take the second right,” Leon mumbled as he turned left, “and over the bridge.”

“The other right, Leon.” Gwaine reminded him.

Eventually they did come to a bridge of sorts, on which stood another old man.

“Whoever dares to cross this bridge shall answer three questions!” he announced. Then he squinted. “More knights? Can’t I get some peace around here? I suppose you’re looking for the Holy Grail like the other lot.”

“Indeed we are. If you would just let us pass my good old man.”

“ _Whoever dares to cross this bridge shall answer three questions!”_ the old man repeated. “Are you deaf?”

“Very well.” A put out Arthur agreed. “Ask your questions, old man.”

“Who are you calling old!” he shouted.

Arthur shrugged, gesturing to his decrepit body.

“Question one.” The man said, ignoring him. “What is your name?”

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Question two, what do you seek?”

“The Holy Grail, as you apparently already know.”

“Question three, what is your favourite colour?”

“Red. Maroon red. Pendragon red.”

“That’s three answers. The bridge only accepts one.”

“They’re all the same!” Arthur protested. “I was reiterating the fact that I like red.”

The man sighed. “Very well, Arthur Pendragon. You may cross.”

Next to go up was Elyan.

“What is your name?” the old man asked. “What is your quest? What is the velocity of a flying African swallow?” he grinned. “The other lot got me with that one. I didn’t give a specific, but I have now. I'm not going down there again!”

Elyan, who was very excited by his question, launched into a spiel about finding the velocity, assuming the mass was a certain number and soon he had come up with an answer. By this time, the man was nearly shoving him over to the other side of the bridge just to keep him quiet.

Gwaine stepped forward.

“Before you ask your questions, would I be able to interest you in some of the new L’Oréal hair care product?” he asked. “It replenishes and revitalises your hair and beard. With all natural ingredients, it’s the way to keep your hair looking as amazing as mine!”

“No.” said the old man.

“No?” Gwaine repeated incredulously.

“No.”

“Pity.” He muttered. “Whats your question?”

“what is your name?”

“what do you think it is?” Gwaine, smirking, asked.

The man mused for a second, putting his hand up to his chin.

“Sir Gawain, knight of Camelot.” He announced.

The was a flash of light, an ear piercing noise, and he was gone, thrown into the large crocodile infested river below.”

Gwaine grinned. “I don't know why people always think that’s my name. There’s no second ‘a’! It’s really quite simple. Anyway,” he gestured to the remaining knights. “Cross, my friends.”

With the exception of Merlin and Lancelot who, for some unknown reason, weren’t there, the others crossed without a problem.

The aforementioned two were waiting on the other side with Arthur and Gwaine. Apparently, they had simply gone round.

After some annoyed chiding, they continued on their way.

“Which way did the sorcerer say it was?” Arthur asked Leon.

“I think it was right, sire.”

“Yes.” Percival agreed. “Definitely the right.”

“It was the left.” Merlin said quietly.

“No no, the right.” Gwaine insisted.

“It’s the left, you idiots.” The warlock pointed, and indeed, there, on the left, was a path with a quaint wooden sign bearing the words: ‘The Holy Grail, this way. This is left, you clotpoles.’

“I think the sign is related to Merlin.” Arthur muttered.

“Quite possibly.”

To Merlin’s immense smug satisfaction, they followed the path to the left.

Down the path they went, tramping as one. In the distance appeared a light; a rather holy light as Gwaine helpfully pointed out. None of them had any doubt: this was the Holy Grail.

They finally reached the end and stumbled out into a clearing.

In this clearing there were several things. One of these things was an inordinately large torch which was the source of the light. The next was a group of knights who stood reverently gathered around the torch as if waiting for something. The last was a rather out of place shrubbery which sat collecting dust on the floor.

Arthur growled when he saw the other knights. “They can’t take this away from us! We must fight to get the grail!”

“Where exactly is the grail, sire?” Lancelot asked. “No one seems to have it.”

“That’s not important.” Arthur said. “It is a matter of honour and glory.” He strode up to what seemed to be the leader of the other group.

“I am king Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, and I challenge you to a duel.”

The other looked vaguely surprised. “I am also king Arthur of Camelot, and I accept your duel. However, I nominate my knight Sir Robin the brave to take my place, because I'm tired.”

“Very well.” Arthur agreed. “I will fight Sir Robin and make him pay.” He looked around threateningly. “And if any minstrel or bard of any kind dares to open his mouth, I will kill him.”

Sir Robin and king Arthur stood facing each other, swords at the ready. Arthur drew his and jabbed it experimentally towards his opponent.

_And brave Sir Robin, brave Sir Robin,_

_He bravely ran away!_

The minstrel sang as Sir Robin ran away. Arthur, glaring, turned his sword upon the man.

All of a sudden, the torch dimmed, and an even brighter light took its place. It shone down on Gwaine for some reason, and in that moment, he looked very holy. He rose, somehow, up into the sky where he was frozen, ale mug in hand.

From up above, a voice echoed. “All hail the mighty Sir Gwaine, bearer of the Holy Grail!”

“The Holy Grail?” Gwaine asked the voice.

“Your mug.” It clarified. “The holiest of Holy Grails.”

"Oh." Said Gwaine. "Well then." And then he took a swig of his ale. "I think this calls for a drink."

**Author's Note:**

> That was two hours of my life that I'm not getting back.


End file.
